


Some of it is Just Transcendental (Some of it is Just Really Dumb)

by Starlithorizon



Series: Alchemy and Guitar Ties [26]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, seriously really very fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin keeps the memories of his life with Arthur in four books on a shelf in their study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some of it is Just Transcendental (Some of it is Just Really Dumb)

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to "The Book of Love" and ended up writing about some very literal books of love. The title comes from the song as well.  
> Seriously, though, this is just a short little snippet about some very sentimental books.

Though he hadn't been given much cause prior to dating (and then marrying) Arthur, Martin had always indulged his sentimentality. Back when he was living in the attic, he'd pinned photos and mementos to a bulletin board hanging above his desk. There had been a box beneath his bed for things too delicate or bulky to pin, a little contained amalgamation of memories over the years.

Now, living in this wonderful little house with his husband of many years, Martin had scattered these little prizes everywhere, letting them mingle blissfully with Arthur's in bookshelves and on top of the fridge and on the walls. Still, some things were just his, and he kept them a bit apart.

In the study, there were four books in a neat row on some innocuous shelf everyone but Martin ignored. Three of the books were stuffed a bit full, and one was halfway done. Should one open one of these books, they would be surprised at the sheer amount of _things_ amassed into the gently bulging tomes. There were ticket stubs, receipts, and photos glued in amidst a tangle of handwritten notes and phrases.

"First date" was written beside a ticket stub for some sleek action film, an arrow pointing.

Beneath a short love note in Arthur's handwriting was the phrase, "More and more every moment."

Just above a photo of the two of them, taken by Douglas shortly after they were married, was the word, "Bliss."

Thumbing through this book, there were hastily-jotted declarations of love and affection and unwavering faith. There was a short burst of musical notes, which someone clever might realise were the opening notes to their song. There were postcards from Arthur from rare journeys that separated them.

These books were more than just Martin and Arthur, though. Letters from Carolyn were pasted in, their Swiss stamps decorating the edges of the pages. There were a small handful of hastily written notes declaring when Martin had won bets over Douglas and what his prize was. Pictures of the crew, both with and without G-ERTI, were absolutely everywhere. Those ranged from fairly professional portraits for brochures to ridiculous and giddy snapshots during touristy days on stopover. There were candid shots of Douglas and Carolyn and Arthur, all in various configurations with and without Martin.

Letters, scrawled out by children, were tucked into the books like treasures. Tommy and Clary, and later Caitlin's children (George and Alan and Lucy) were in these beloved books. There were photos of Hannah from her prom, and then graduation, with the latest addition of her wedding.

Interspersed throughout each and every book were little phrases like, "Winning the cheese tray from Douglas," or "Driving in Arthur's car on a sunny morning."

Looking through the three full books and the one half-full book, it would become very clear that these were more than just scrapbooks or memory books or whatever.

They were books of love. Plain and simple.

At least, that's what Arthur thought as he thumbed through them all one night while Martin was with Douglas on the Isle of Man. They were testaments to the love that Martin had for everyone, and for the love that everyone had for _him_. It was so tangible, pages of affection and loyalty and love.

With a smile, Arthur took up his pencils and sketched out a face on one of the blank pages. He coloured the hair, still mostly red but slowly going grey, and eyes with great attention to detail. Beneath the portrait, he wrote, "Forever loved" and closed the book, replacing it with the others.

They were daft, sentimental sods, and Arthur absolutely thrived on it. He might have been the artist of the family, but Martin was the scribe, writing words of family and love and forever in those books of his.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, prompts are welcomed!


End file.
